In my life, it is prime
The terror I feel gripping my throat.
Don’t look this way, it is me frozen in time.
Yet, I change. Yes, I am like the clime.
But you won’t see me, I am simply a mote.
I often look like a mime.
Oftentimes, I look like a cyme.
As I take off my coat.
Don’t look this way, it is me frozen in time.
I decide to climb
But you won’t even take note.
I often look like a mime.
What is it? What is my crime?
If I go along as I float.
Don’t look this way, it is me frozen in time.
Is my life a riddle? Or is it a rhyme?
Why do you gloat?
I often look like a mime.
Don’t look this way, it is me frozen in time.
© 2018 Ana Celia Velez Rios
